Nine Weeks Later
The top floor of Klein and Houndson smells like disinfectant and leather cleaner. The silence is heavy, almost oppressive—everyone keeps their door closed, and the thick carpet sucks up any personality and conversation like a vacuum.
I lean back in my chair and bump against the wall behind me. The light in my tiny junior office flickers every time I plug my laptop in and it’s a constant game of using it on battery for as long as I can before I give up and accept the headache-inducing strobe. I’m pretty sure I have the smallest office in the entire firm, and the partner that shares a wall with me called it the law closet when I first moved in. That’s guy’s a prick. Actually, most of them are pricks.
A knock at the door makes me bump into the wall again. I curse as I adjust myself. “Come in,” I call out.
Carmine Scavo stands there looking in with a frown. He glances at my filing cabinet, at the single chair in front of my desk, at the total lack of windows, and I’m pretty sure he could stretch out his arms and touch both walls. He’s big, good looking, and sleek in a rich-and-dangerous sort of way, and a smile breaks out across his face. “I have to admit, I imagined something a little more—”
I glare at him. “If you’re about to insult my office, I’ll have you thrown out of here in a second.”
Carmine laughs and closes the door behind him. “I’d never dream of it.”
“Take a seat, Carmine.” I watch him settle in the only chair. My best friend’s husband is the sort of criminal client I’d never let walk through my door, mostly because I do intellectual property and copyright law, and if Brice didn’t love him, I’d never take this meeting.
But Brice does love him, and I love Brice, which means I’m willing to give legal advice to a gangster.
“I haven’t seen you since the wedding,” Carmine says and tries to stretch his legs out but realizes there’s not enough room. I grimace slightly but try not to let him see it. “How are things?”
“Things are fine. Busy with work.” I gesture at the pile of case files. I’m a first-year associate which means I get all the work the higher-ups don’t want. It helps fill out my billable hours but it’s also extremely tedious and distracts from building my own book of business.
“You haven’t been hanging around with Brice much lately.”
I shrug a little and glance away. I’ve been feeling guilty about that. “I’m not seeing much of anyone these days.” Which is true—I’m trying to keep my head above water and haven’t made time for an actual social life since diving into this job.
“You’re that busy, huh?”
“Trying to work my way up in this place.”
He bobs his head from side to side, studying me. “Well, give her a call. She misses you.”
“I will. Did you come here to make me feel shitty about not talking to Brice, or did you have some business you wanted to discuss?”
Carmine’s smile is sharp as he sits up straight. “As a matter of fact, I do have some legal issues I’d like to discuss. But I need to know who I’m speaking with first.”
My eyebrows raise. “I’m sorry?”
“Are you Sara the lawyer or Sara my wife’s friend?”
I sit very still and try to get a sense for where this is going. Carmine watches me in return. My stomach’s doing flips, tying itself into knots, but I keep that off my face. I don’t want to show weakness to a man like this if I can avoid it, and I take a few moments to consider what he’s saying.
“I’m not officially your lawyer yet,” I say very carefully. “If you’re about to admit to crimes—”
He holds up a hand. “I don’t commit crimes.”
“All right, then I’m a little bit of both.”
He clears his throat and I realize he might be as nervous as I am. “Here’s the situation. One of my guys got arrested and charged with murder two days ago, and I think he’s innocent.”
I let that sink in. The silence feels heavy and oppressive. I knew Carmine was into some dark stuff, but murder? And here, in Texas? His family is based in Philadelphia, and although he travels back and forth with Brice for work, they’ve been spending more and more of their time on the East Coast these days. I had no clue he had guys in Dallas, much less guys that might get thrown in jail for a serious offense like freaking murder.
“I’m not sure what I can do to help you,” I admit and start opening a drawer. “We have some good defense attorneys if you want me to make a recommendation—” I start pulling through paperwork, looking for a card I can offer him, but he shakes his head.
“No, I’m here because I don’t trust anyone else. I have my own suits back in Philly, but I need someone licensed here in Texas. I need someone that has my best interests at heart.”
“Carmine,” I say, spreading my hands. “Murder isn’t my thing. I do intellectual property disputes.”
“The law is the law. You could take this on, couldn’t you?”
“Yes, but—”
“He’s innocent, Sara. I don’t know by whom, and I don’t know why, but he was set up.”
I rub my face and shake my head. “Carmine, I’m sorry, this is nuts. I’m a first year IP lawyer, I couldn’t possibly help you with a murder case whether your guy is innocent or not.”
“I’ll triple your normal rate.”
That gets my attention. I sit still, eyebrows raised. Putting a triple rate case on my books would be absolutely massive, and I could really use a ton of help if I’m going to impress the guys here. Klein and Houndson is a top law firm in Texas and I’m bottom of the rung, which means there are half a dozen other smart and capable lawyers fighting tooth and nail to push me even lower on the pecking order.
And this place is a little—traditional would be the nice term. There are other female lawyers here, even a few female partners, but not many even though the law industry as a whole is rapidly changing and diversifying. Klein and Houndson remains one of the few places that hasn’t kept up with the times, and now I’m struggling through that mess.
Taking on a client like Carmine, a client willing and able to pay fat bills, would be extremely beneficial.
But it’s a murder case, and I don’t do murder cases.
“I’m sorry, Carmine, I just can’t.”
“If I could go hire any old lawyer, I would, but none of them are going to believe me. You barely believe me and you were at my wedding. I know who I am and I know what my people do, but I’m telling you the truth right now. My guy was set up and I can’t let him rot in jail for something he didn’t do. So please, help me out. Help him out.”
I rub my temples. There’s that headache again ready to bloom, and the laptop’s not even plugged in. What the hell is Carmine thinking, coming to me with a case like this? I love Brice, but that doesn’t mean I’m about to throw my life away working with a freaking mobster.
But then again, even gangsters deserve good representation, and if Carmine really thinks I’m the only person able to do the job—
And the money’s going to be good, which helps a whole lot.
“I could, in theory, take it on.”
“Perfect,” he says and hits his thighs with his palms. “That’s great. Let’s sign the documents and get to work.”
“But wait, hold on, I said in theory—”
“I’ll need a lot of your time, all right? Lots and lots of billable hours. Go fucking nuts, I don’t care what it takes. I want to clear my boy’s name.”
I groan and shake my head. “Carmine—”
“His name is Nicolas Cavallo. Young guy, barely twenty-one. Smart, fluent in Spanish and Italian, an up-and-coming sort of guy. He’s not the type to kill a room full of Mexican cartel members, but that’s what they’re saying he did.”
I groan and feel like my stomach falls from my knees. “Cartel? You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I know, but hey, they’re dead already so you don’t have to worry.”
“Carmine.”
He grins at me and stands. “You’ll be okay, don’t stress about it. I’m sending help. You’re not going through this on your own, but listen, Nicolas is innocent, and it’ll be on you to prove it.”
“I’m not a detective, I don’t do investigations. I’m an IP lawyer—”
“You’ll do great, and besides, Angelo will take care of everything.”
My jaw falls open and I stare at Carmine as he walks to the door of my office. That name echoes through my head—Angelo, Angelo, Angelo. This has to be a sick joke. I’ve thought about Angelo a thousand times since the wedding, but I swore I’d never see him again, never reach out to him again, no matter what.
Our last kiss still tingles on my lips.
But it was our last kiss.
I’m not breaking that promise to myself.
“Wait, hold on,” I say before Carmine can run off. “Angelo is helping me?”
“Nicolas is part of Angelo’s crew, so Angelo’s the one that feels responsible. He’ll do most of the investigating, all you have to do is steer him along and provide him all your legal expertise. You got it?”
“Carmine, this is wildly insane. Not to mention inappropriate and maybe not even legal, and you can’t just—”
“Yeah, yeah, shit’s complicated, I’m aware, and that’s why I’m paying you the big bucks.” He smiles at me sadly and shrugs. “But the kid’s innocent and I’m not about to let him go down for the rest of his life. Are you?”
I glare at him and cross my arms. “That’s not fair.”
“Nobody said any of this shit was fair.” He pulls his phone from his pocket and checks the screen. “I gotta go make some calls. How about you go meet Angelo at the Hilton downtown tomorrow night? Sometime around seven? Dress real conservative though, we don’t want a repeat of the wedding.”
I turn beet red and put my palms flat on the desk. “Please, don’t ever mention that again. If we’re going to do this, we’re keeping it professional.”
He laughs and holds up his hands. “Understood, and hey, all I know is you two danced a lot, that’s all.” I want to punch Carmine in the throat so badly it hurts, but I’m too knocked off balance to do anything but sit here and stare death at him. “Hilton, tomorrow, seven. Angelo will give you everything we know and he’ll run things from the ground. You tell him where to look and he’ll look. Good luck. You can do this.” Carmine disappears into the hall and is gone, leaving me alone.
I lean back in my chair, knock against the back wall, and slowly deflate, feeling like I was just run over by a truck.
How is my life taking a sudden turn for the worse?
Angelo’s here, in Dallas, and he’s going to work with me to solve a murder case, a crime I don’t even specialize in, and a crime that involves a freaking Mexican drug cartel. This is so beyond me and I feel like I can’t breathe. My head’s pounding and my hands are sweating, and I’m trembling as I stare down at my lap and both my hands press to my stomach.
Because none of that is the real problem.
I can handle a murder case and some cartel guys. It’s hard and dangerous but I have resources at the firm and a dozen decent lawyers that can help me out if I need it. No, the case is bad, but it’s not what’s killing me.
Angelo’s the problem.
That night is the problem.
His baby is the problem.
The baby I’m carrying.
I found out three weeks ago when I missed my period after the wedding. I took a test, and another test, and another, until I had a pharmacy’s worth of positive tests lined up on the rim of my bathtub like a chorus in a Greek tragedy all singing about how I’m doomed forever and ever and the gods are laughing at me.
I’m pregnant.
With a mobster’s baby.
And now that mobster is back in my life when I swore I’d never tell him about this child and never wanted to speak with him again.
One last kiss, that was all.
Except he left me with a parting gift.
Now we’re about to work together, and I don’t know if I can handle keeping this secret.
Because there’s no way in hell he’s ever finding out about my baby.
